Mine
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Rabastan shivered, drawing his cloak tighter about himself, and darted a glance over toward the corner of the courtyard. There she was, head thrown back with delighted laughter, horrid Gryffindor colours adorning her robes.


Assignment #5

Herbology: canon Death Eater making a love confession

Roald Dahl Event

Room 117 Crystallised whingers - write about a pure blood

Around The World in 31 Days

1\. Alice Longbottom

 **Mine**

* * *

Rabastan shivered, drawing his cloak tighter about himself, and darted a glance over toward the corner of the courtyard. There she was, head thrown back with delighted laughter, horrid Gryffindor colours adorning her robes. Her dark hair was cropped short, and she looked like a fairy, with pixie-pointed ears and luminous hazel eyes that were larger than life.

 _Mine_ , he thought, _you'll be mine._ He twitched as Frank Longbottom barged past him, and shrunk further into the shadows. Longbottom placed a hand on her shoulder, and Rabastan fingered his wand, the wood smooth and cool against his already chilled hands. An icy wind tossed leaves into the air, whispering secrets to the stones of Hogwarts, hinting of the winter to come.

She shoved at Longbottom, and Rabastan relaxed at her clear rejection, despite the smile upon her face. It was obviously a front – for why else would she be smiling at him? _Mine,_ he reminded himself… _Mine._

The group of Gryffindors swelled as more members joined them, and then they started on their way to class. Rabastan chose that moment to act. He fell into step with her, thankful that she was at the back of the pack. _Destiny… it was obviously destiny…_

She jumped when he appeared out of the shadows, and he noticed her wand dropped into her hand as she eyed him warily. Good, for that was a Slytherin trait, and one well worth cultivating.

"I would be delighted for you to accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend," he said, inclining his head. "I will meet you by the Statue of the Weeping Angels, at 9am."

Alice Brown didn't reply, her eyes narrowed, and he took that for acquiescence. He smiled politely, if coolly, at her friends, and strode away.

 _You will be mine._

An hour and a half after the time they'd agreed to meet, Rabastan was forced to admit that she had not come. Perhaps she'd been caught in detention, or one of the 'Marauders'' foolish little pranks, or she was unwell. First, he visited the infirmary, only to be shooed away by the meddlesome Madam Pomphrey. He'd managed to glimpse past Mediwitch, and all the beds were empty, so she was not there. Next, he tried Professor McGonagall, who was even less pleased to see him, and declared that if he was searching for people in detention, then perhaps he ought to join them, and gestured for him to sit with Regulus' vile older brother and his insipid friend. He strode away, sneering at her in disdain. _As if I would ever allow myself to get caught in enough trouble to receive detention. No, no, never._

Reluctantly, he gave up searching for her, and made his own way to Hogsmeade. No doubt she had been busy, but he was sure she would make it up to him.

 _I'll make her._

He paid a visit to Scrivenshaft's to pick up the personalised parchment he'd ordered, and as he left, parcel under one arm, he heard a dainty laugh that he'd never be able to mistake for anyone else.

Rabastan turned on his heel. There she was – beautiful, elegant, and _not with him._ Instead, her hand was clasped in Longbottom's.

He didn't understand. They looked wrong together, Longbottom lumbering and tall, where she was small and delicate.

"Alice," he called, tilting his head.

She glanced over at him, raised a brow, and nudged Longbottom with her shoulder.

"Yeah?" she replied lazily when they'd made their way over to him.

Rabastan's lip curled.

"It's 'yes', not 'yeah'," he corrected her. _My_ _future wife couldn't be allowed poor enunciation._

"I see," she said, hands on hips. "What do you want, Lestrange?"

"Why are you," he gestured, "with him? I asked you, after all. I thought… hoped you'd be waiting."

Alice's brow furrowed, and she exchanged a glance with Longbottom. "I'm dating him…"

Rabastan stared at her gormlessly, and twitched in shock. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. "No… no… you can't be. You are meant to date me. I love you!" His breath came in short, sharp pants. " You have to date me. I love you..."

He fumbled at his wand, unsure what to do with it, and his parcel dropped from under his arm, the parchment spilling out onto the grass, a fan of aged tan against the worn ground.

"We'd be perfect together, so perfect… you can't… no, I won't allow it!"

Alice took a step back, and Rabastan took two steps forward. Longbottom, tall and broad, came between them.

"Back off, mate," Longbottom rumbled. "As if Alice would date someone like you."

Alice tugged at Longbottom's arm. "Come on, Frank. Leave him be. Lestrange, I'm sorry, I'm not interested. I never will be."

They walked away, hand in hand. Rabastan fell to his knees, feeling as if she had taken his heart and tossed it to the floor, whereupon it shattered into a thousand pieces, all done with nary a care in the word. She had betrayed him – and for a creature as unworthy as Longbottom.

It wasn't right.

His hands, which first shook, then curled into fists as he watched them together, fingers nails digging into palms. Then he forced himself to look away, and glared hatefully at the ground. _You'll regret this,_ he thought.

He'd make her regret it.

* * *

Word count: 891


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